Truth Revealed
by Naninator
Summary: The Molly in Sherlock's Mind Palace in TAB appeared very angry with him. This is a little 3 part story that explores what happens before Sherlock's exile and after. Spoilers for Season 3 and TAB.
1. Chapter 1

_Set after Sherlock is shot but before he faces Magnussen._

 **Part 1**

The slam of the front door and the heavy thud of footsteps on the staircase had Sherlock Holmes lifting his head from where it rested on the tips of his fingers and turning it to face the door. While John usually sounded that way when he was in a strop about something these steps did not belong to his best friend. No, these were lighter, though no less angry sounding.

Seconds later Molly Hooper burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. She whirled around and fixed him with a fierce expression etched on her face.

"Why?" She demanded and Sherlock's eyebrows rose.

"Why, what? I believe I should be asking you that question. Though judging by how upset you are I can only assume – "

"Stop. Just stop." Molly said fiercely and Sherlock shut his mouth quickly, his eyes wide. Molly took a deep breath and closed her eyes for just a moment, struggling to calm herself. Sherlock observed her white knuckles as she clenched her hands by her sides and that her shoulders were shaking slightly. He would have to be an idiot to not know that she was angry, angrier than he had ever seen her, and this was after she had slapped him three times for being on drugs. His jaw clenched at the memory.

"I want you to tell me why, Sherlock. Why did you take drugs? Why would you do that to yourself, to your friends?" Sherlock heaved a great sigh of aggravation, annoyed that she was still harping on about that.

"As I told you before, as I told _John_ , it was for a case – "

"No!" She cut him off again, stalking towards him until she stood before his seated form. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright. "Do not sit there and tell me that it was for a case, Sherlock. And even if it was for a case you didn't have to actually take the drugs. You could have faked it. We all know how good you are at faking things." She finished bitterly and Sherlock frowned, affronted.

"I had to make it believable, Molly. Solving this case is crucial to saving someone's life. Merely faking being on drugs wouldn't have cut it."

"So that's why you faked that relationship with Janine then? Breaking that poor woman's heart in the process because all you cared about was the case?" Her tone was harsh, accusing and Sherlock stood from his chair, moving into her space.

"Yes," he hissed, truly over everyone being self righteous with him. "And I would do it again if it means that I am one step closer to eliminating the man who has threatened my client."

"Even if it gets you killed?" Molly demanded, her dark brown eyes glaring up at him. "First you take drugs, knowing exactly what it would do to you, and then you go and get yourself shot. You almost died, Sherlock. In fact, you did die." Her voice broke on that last word and Sherlock felt something within him crack slightly. Her eyes were shining as she looked up at him.

"You died on that table, Sherlock. And by some miracle you came back. You keep throwing yourself into these situations that could kill you, regardless of how everyone who cares about you would feel if that happened. One day there won't be a miracle, Sherlock. One day you won't have a backup plan that could help you. One day you won't have someone there to save you." Molly paused and Sherlock's hands clenched at his sides, her words hitting him like tiny darts. His chest felt tight and his heart thudded in his chest when a lone tear slipped down her cheek.

"Does your life mean so little to you?" She inquired softly, her dark, tear filled eyes searching his face. His breath stilled in his lungs.

"Molly – "

"Because nothing, Sherlock," Molly said fiercely, her eyes blazing. " _Nothing_ is worth giving up your life. Not drugs, not a case, nothing." Her gaze dropped to his chest and, very gently, she placed her hand over where the bullet had entered his body. Sherlock's breath hitched and he blinked rapidly, struggling to take in what she was telling him. Her dark head was bent, her gaze on her hand. Her fingers clenched in his shirt before her head lifted to meet his gaze.

"And I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "This is what I came to tell you today. That if you ever, intentionally, put yourself in a situation where you could be killed, then that will be the end of it."

"The end of what?" Sherlock rasped, staring at the small woman before him as if he had never seen her before. And perhaps he hadn't. The Molly Hooper before him now was fierce, determined and passionate, holding nothing back over how she felt about what he had done.

"Our friendship," she told him, another tear slipping down her cheek. "I cannot watch you recklessly throw your life away. You are such a wonderful, brilliant man, Sherlock, who has friends and family who love you and care for you so much. You have so much to live for, so much to give to the world, and the world has so much to give you in return." Molly's hand tightened on his shirt briefly before she let go, dropping it to her side.

"I love you, Sherlock," Molly said, a small, sad smile curling her lips. "I think you know that. You are one of my greatest friends and it breaks my heart to see you this way. I wish that I could have done more for you, helped you however you needed it." She moved back and Sherlock's arms rose as if to pull her back, his heart thumping erratically in his chest. He didn't like the heavy, leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach or the constricting tightness in his chest. Guilt, shame… Remorse... Feelings that he had felt more and more often ever since John Watson had come into his life.

"I – I…" He didn't know what to say. Molly always had him at loss for words, something that frustrated him and yet he admired her greatly for.

"Just know, Sherlock," she said quietly, her tone so gentle now compared to how angry she had been earlier. Now she only looked sad.

"That I cannot, _will not_ , watch you destroy yourself. So, please," a choked breath had her gasping softly and her eyes flooded with unshed tears. " _Please_ , stop throwing your life away. _Please_." His own eyes stung as he stared at her, the vice in his chest constricting further. She gave him that sad little smile again before turning and heading to the door and Sherlock was frozen to the spot. She was pulling it open when Sherlock's legs decided to start working again and he stumbled forward, a hand outstretched towards her.

"M-Molly – "

Without a word or a glance Molly slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind her. Sherlock stumbled to a stop, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Staring at the door he had the horrible feeling that he had just lost something precious.


	2. Chapter 2

_Set after The Abominable Bride as Sherlock and the others leave the plane though I have the withdrawal hitting Sherlock much sooner._

 _I also wanted to thank those who have reviewed, favourited, and followed this story. Your support is very appreciated!_

 **Disclaimer: I forgot to put this on the first chapter! Oops! I don't own any of the characters or the show.**

 **Part 2**

With his arm slung over John Watson's shoulder Sherlock Holmes shuddered as he struggled to overcome his withdrawal. Moriarty, or someone who was using him as a ploy, was back and Sherlock was needed once more to take him down. Another shiver coursed through him, John talking softly in his ear as the ex army doctor helped him down the stairs as they exited the plane.

Hitting the tarmac they were ushered along to the waiting car, Mary Watson suddenly at his side and helping him to stay upright. John helped him into the back seat, sliding in alongside him while Mary hopped into the front seat. As Sherlock slumped against his best friend, shivers wracking his long frame, a pair of dark, brilliant eyes flashed into his mind. A muffled groan escaped him and John's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"You're alright, mate. I've got you." John reassured as he rubbed Sherlock's arm briskly.

"M-molly – d-don't tell Molly," Sherlock rasped, squeezing his eyes shut when the car lurched into motion, his empty stomach lurching along with it. John squeezed his arm.

"Molly? Sherlock, she's going to find out – "

"Please," Sherlock gasped raggedly, a hand rising to clench tightly in his sweat soaked curls. "Please, John. Don't – don't t-tell Molly." John looked down at him worriedly for a moment and then looked to his wife who had turned to watch them from the front seat. Mary glanced at them in concern before giving John a little nod. The blogger turned back to his friend who was looking at him with desperate eyes, sweat beading on his pale skin.

"Alright, alright. Easy, Sherlock, I won't tell Molly." The consulting detective seemed to deflate for he slumped suddenly, sinking heavily into John's arms as his eyes fluttered shut. The last thing he heard was John's frantic calls of his name and Mary's voice urging the driver to go faster.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

When Sherlock woke it was to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and sunlight hitting his face. He felt exhausted and strung out. Very gingerly he pushed himself up in the hospital bed and rubbed at his sleep encrusted eyes. As he did so he felt someone watching him and slowly dropped his hands as he turned to face the visitor.

Sherlock's heart stuttered when he found Molly Hooper watching him silently from the seat beside his bed, her expression blank, her dark eyes impenetrable. It was another one of those times where Sherlock found it difficult to read her. Coming down from the concoction of drugs he had taken on the plane didn't help either. It wasn't hard to guess why she was there, however. Though he had asked John, begged really, for him not to tell Molly, she had no doubt heard it elsewhere that he was here at the hospital.

Her stare remained impassive and Sherlock struggled not to fidget, loathing the notion that he was so uncomfortable in her presence, knowing that when she finally deigned to speak it would be to tear him to shreds. Having no desire to hear how apparently stupid he was to get himself into this situation Sherlock decided to preempt her.

"Molly. So nice of you to visit. I'm afraid that I'm unable to chat; the supposed return of Moriarty, you understand." Molly remained silent and Sherlock's hands clenched in the top sheet to still their trembling. "S-so if you'd be so kind as to get John, we have a lot of work to do."

He waited and still Molly said nothing. If he were being honest with himself he would say that he was disturbed by her silence, even worried. Gritting his teeth, banishing the foolish emotions that had him so flustered, Sherlock leveled her with a pointed stare.

"Molly – "

"Why did you do it?" Her soft voice had Sherlock pausing. She met his gaze evenly. Sherlock frowned.

"If you mean Magnussen, then – "

"No," Molly interrupted, shaking her head. "No. Why did you take drugs again?" Sherlock looked away from her penetrating stare, his eyes dropping to his clenched fists in his lap. His jaw tightened.

"Not that it's any of your business – "

"Sherlock." It was just his name, said so softly, but being interrupted once again made him feel like a disobedient child and he lashed out.

"Stop it, Molly! Stop looking at me like you have any right to dictate what I can and cannot do. You have no idea what it was like; being locked away for a week in solitary confinement. I had nothing, _nothing_ , to stimulate me, my mind the only thing to keep me company." He slammed his fists on the bed beside him, breathing heavily as he glared at the silent pathologist.

"There is only so much that can entertain me. And I'm not like that anymore… I can't be alone anymore," he chuckled mirthlessly and looked away from her, the muscle in his jaw jumping in agitation. "Damn John Watson! Damn all of you for making me feel this way when I had no need of you! Are you happy, Molly? Is this what you wanted to hear?" He turned to her, a snarl curling his lips. Molly had been silent through his tirade but when Sherlock saw her face it was streaked with tears, her dark eyes shining wetly.

Sherlock felt his throat close up as Molly stood, embarrassed that he had revealed all of that to her and had lost control of himself like that. There was just something about Molly Hooper that made it so easy to share things people would rather keep hidden. He watched her warily as she stared down at her feet for a moment and scrubbed the tears away with the sleeve of her colourful jumper.

When she finally looked up at him Sherlock's chest tightened at her expression. It was equal parts sad and devastated. A shuddering sigh escaped her before she straightened her shoulders and spoke.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," Molly whispered. "I never wanted to cause you any hardship. I…I had always thought that John coming into your life was a blessing, not a burden. He has made you human, Sherlock, and I for one thank him for it. I hope that one day you can too." She bit her lip and her chin trembled slightly.

"Please be careful, Sherlock," Molly implored him. "Whatever it is you have to do to stop this, please don't throw your life away. I'm sorry that I aggravated you," a humourless laugh fell from her lips. "You're right; I am nothing to you to be able to tell you what to do. Forgive me. You…y-you won't have to worry about me interfering anymore, I know when I am not needed or wanted." She quirked a trembling smile at him and he watched her as she seemed to debate with herself for a moment as she shifted from foot to foot. With a little nod to herself and a deep steadying breath Molly moved closer to the bed and very carefully bent over him, pressing her lips ever so softly to his forehead. Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut at the contact before springing wide when she whispered her parting words.

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

Molly stood upright and left the room, the door to his private room clicking shut. There had been such finality in her tone and he hated that it made his chest ache unbearably, right over his heart. Sighing heavily Sherlock rubbed at the aching spot in his chest, growing more and more annoyed with himself when his eyes began to sting

When the door opened again Sherlock's head snapped up, a tentatively hopeful expression on his face. It fell quickly when it was only John and Sherlock rubbed absently at his chest when the ache returned.

"Sherlock, Molly said you'd woken up," John said lightly, a grin on his face. At Molly's name the ache in his chest intensified.

"John," Sherlock croaked and John frowned.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" He asked as he moved closer to the bed. Sherlock could only stare up at his friend, mortified when a tear slipped down his cheek.

"I…I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

_The last installment of this little series. It is mainly from Molly's POV this time round._

 _Warnings for some violence._

 _Thank you to all my reviewers and followers! Your messages are very appreciated. Enjoy!_

 **Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything from the show :D**

 **Part 3**

"I really think you should talk to him, Molly," Mary Watson was saying as she sat down beside the pathologist, adjusting little baby Elizabeth against her shoulder. Molly sighed and sipped her tea, closing her eyes as she savoured the warmth. Feeling Mary's eyes on her Molly turned to face her.

"I can't, Mary," she said softly and put her tea cup on the coffee table. "I've said what I wanted to say and it's up to him to decide what he wants to do with that knowledge." She smiled sadly, her gaze distant.

"I just…I just couldn't watch him do that to himself anymore. It was breaking my heart." Her voice broke on the last word and Mary touched her hand gently to Molly's arm.

"I know, luv. But even though you don't think so, he misses you, Molly." At Molly's snort Mary chuckled ruefully.

"I know, I know, but it's true. John's told me he's been acting funny since this return of Moriarty thing started. I think what you said to him really got to him." A pregnant silence filled the living room of Mary's home and Molly felt the ever present ache in her heart since she had last spoken to Sherlock intensify. This time it was Mary who heaved a sign and quite suddenly she pushed little Elizabeth into Molly's unsuspecting arms.

"Hold Lizzy, would you? I've gotta grab her nappy bag. Usually after she's had a big feed she fills her nappy." Mary grinned cheekily at Molly's unimpressed expression.

"Lovely," Molly muttered but instantly made silly faces at the baby when Mary left the room. It was difficult to stay mad at Lizzy when she was so adorable. She had her mother's pale hair and her father's dark blue eyes. The little button nose and the chubby, rosy cheeks just sealed the deal.

Molly sat playing with the baby's chubby arms, laughing when Lizzy made little raspberries with her mouth. After seeing Sherlock in the hospital things had changed. Mary had gone into an early labour a few weeks after Sherlock's exile was put on hold indefinitely. Both Mary and the baby had pulled through with little complication and Molly had found great comfort and distraction being with the new mother and child. The last few weeks with them had been the only way Molly hadn't locked herself away in her flat after she had realized what she had done when she cut herself off completely from Sherlock. It had almost destroyed her but she knew that she'd had to, if not only for herself but to remind Sherlock that there was only so far he could push the people that cared about him.

Lizzy's face suddenly went bright red, her little body tensing before she relaxed, a gurgling giggle escaping her lips. Molly raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"Mary," she called, holding Lizzy carefully as she stood from the couch and headed down the hallway towards the bedrooms. "I think Lizzy here has a present for you!" She glanced down at the squirming baby in her arms, tickling the little one's tummy, smiling when she got another giggle.

A loud thump had Molly pausing, turning her head back and forth in search of the noise, a confused frown marring her features. The house was eerily silent, which was unusual because the Watson home was usually filled with the homey sounds of family since Elizabeth's birth.

"Mary?"

The sound of something heavy being dragged across wooden floor boards made Molly freeze in place, her arms tightening on the baby. The sound had come from behind the closed door of the baby's nursery before her and Molly bit her lip harshly. Why wasn't Mary answering? Before she could decide what to do the door swung open and Molly found herself face to face with the business end of a gun. Lizzy had begun to cry now, Molly's grip too tight, but the pathologist didn't dare loosen her hold.

The man before her was of a solid build and average in height. His hair was a light brown and he had deep set brown eyes that stared emotionlessly at her. A scar nicked the corner of his mouth giving him an eerie, lopsided smile that was nowhere near reassuring.

Holding Lizzy tight Molly's heart leapt into her throat when she saw the prone form of Mary beside the cot, blood from a blow to the head matting her blonde hair. Her gaze went back to the intruder and, with strength she had only recently realized that she possessed, she met his gaze.

"Who are you?" She demanded, secretly pleased to note that her voice only trembled slightly. The man didn't speak, his dark eyes running over her figure slowly and Molly suppressed a shiver of revulsion.

"Well, this is unexpected, but not unfortunate," the man said, his voice a hoarse rumble and a horrible grin spread across his face.

"I was just going to take the missus here and the brat but you, oh having you here, Miss Hooper, is prefect! Jim really liked you, told me all about you; how kind and understanding you are, how cooperative you are." At this he moved forward and traced the point of the gun along the curve of her cheek. Molly struggled not to flinch at the cool metal and his eyes hardened.

"Now, Miss Hooper, you will shut that kid up while I deal with Mrs Watson here. And don't try anything to let that detective know. He'll figure it out all in good time." Molly flinched when he shoved her forward and pushed her into the closet at the end of the hall. She whirled around to face him, jiggling little Lizzy whose cries had reached hysterical levels.

"It was you," said Molly, realization hitting her like a sledgehammer. "You're the one behind the broadcasts."

"Got it in one, Miss Molly," he said. "Now be a good girl and wait patiently. And shut that kid up or John Watson will have one less mouth to feed." He slammed the door closed, the sound of a lock sliding into place, and plunged them into darkness. The tears that she had been suppressing spilled over as she tried to hush the baby,

"It's alright, Lizzy," Molly whispered as soothingly as she could despite how bad her voice was shaking and that everything was anything but fine. She rubbed the baby's back and sung softly to her. After a few minutes the baby slipped into an exhausted sleep and Molly released an unsteady breath. Her thoughts were with Mary, hoping she was alright. Molly knew that she had to do something, anything to help Sherlock and John in finding them. Before Jim Moriarty's friend returned, for Molly now recognized him from the picture Jim had shown her all those years ago – _"oh, yes, Seb. My bestest friend!" Jim had said, his voice high and childish. "We do everything together!" -_ she set about leaving something behind for Sherlock.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly flinched and squeezed her eyes shut as another blow struck Mary across the face. Poor little Lizzy was distraught in Molly's arms and the pathologist did all she could to soothe the baby while being so restricted. She had little movement in her arms other than being able to hold Lizzy as ropes across her chest and wrapped around her ankles held her tight to the chair she was strapped to.

Sebastian Moran, as he had formally introduced himself earlier, had brought them to an abandoned warehouse. After strapping Molly down he had thrust Lizzy into her arms, ensuring that she wouldn't try to escape, before dragging a limp Mary into the room. Moran had roused her after tying her down with a slap to the face, which caused her to awaken with a startled gasp. From then on he had persisted in hitting her as he fired question after question on what she knew about Sherlock's staged death and return.

Which is what lead them to this point. Molly flinched again when Moran's hand met Mary's cheek with a resounding smack. It amazed Molly the entire time that Mary hadn't uttered a word other than to remark scathingly on Moran himself. She admired Mary's bravery but wished the woman would keep her mouth shut, if not for herself then for her child.

Molly lowered her head to drop a kiss to Lizzy's brow, the baby's cries shuddering and inconsolable as she buried her head into Molly's chest. Molly wanted more than anything to switch places with Mary, if only so Lizzy could feel the comfort of her mother's arms.

"You know something, damn you! You are the wife of the man's best friend, surly the idiot would have told you something of how his friend survived?" Moran practically screamed, his chest heaving with angry breaths, his face ruddy. Molly watched him apprehensively. When he had attacked them in the Watson's home Molly had sensed an underlying instability surrounding Moran and watching him now only confirmed her suspicions. Whatever this man was, he was hardly sane.

Mary gazed up at Moran with a blank expression on her face and then shrugged.

"I don't know why you would honestly think I'd know anything, Sherlock hardly tells John anything. So if hitting a woman makes you feel like a big man and will get you what you want, by all means." A smug smirk lifted her lips even as Mary's eyes glinted with hate.

With a growl Moran viciously backhanded her across the face, the force of it sending her rocking backwards and causing the chair to topple over. She hit the floor hard, the breath rushing out of her and Molly couldn't contain her cry of horror. As Moran stomped towards the prone woman Molly knew she had to do something, anything to distract Moran, or Mary would surely be killed.

"Wait!"

Moran paused and turned to face her, his expression murderous. Out the corner of her eye she could see Mary frantically shaking her head, her blue eyes wide as they locked on her dark ones. Molly resolutely turned her eyes back to the man who was now stalking towards her, gulping nervously and securing her hold on Lizzy as much as she could. The poor thing had finally fallen asleep in exhaustion and Molly hoped that what she was about to do wouldn't endanger them both.

"Well, Miss Molly?" Moran demanded, his dark eyes staring hatefully into her own. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I k-know some of Sherlock's plan." The triumphant grin that spread across Moran's face at her gulping nervously. He started towards her and Molly tightened her arms around the baby to strengthen her resolve. For this to turn out in their favour she needed to gain the upper hand.

"B-before I tell you anything you have to promise that you will not lay a hand on Mary or the baby," Molly said strongly, meeting his gaze as fiercely as she could. He held her gaze before nodding imperceptibly. Molly tried to hide her relief. Good. That was good. This next part she wasn't so sure he'd go for.

"Also, I would like to be the one to give Lizzy to Mary. If I do anything there is nothing stopping you from k-killing me. After that you can tie me back up and ask your questions. D-deal?" She tried to say that last bit as firmly as she could but her voice wobbled slightly. Moran watched her for a moment before a harsh grin spread across his lips and then he laughed.

"Jim always said that you'd be the one to look out for, that you were something special. It was you, wasn't it? The one that helped Holmes fake his death." Molly stayed silent, watching him warily and he laughed again.

"Very well, Miss Molly, we'll do it your way."

The exchange happened very quickly. Moran held a gun to her back the entire time she walked towards Mary, still held it on her when he roughly up righted Mary in her chair. She avoided Mary's eyes as she placed Lizzy in her arms after Moran released her hands. Once Molly was back and securely tied in her chair she took a deep breath and tried to steady her shallow breathing.

"So, _Doctor Hooper_ ," Moran drawled softly as he circled about her seated form, hands clasped behind his back. "Tell me how you helped the little detective from faking his death."

"I only pushed the body double out the window," Molly began softly, her eyes focused on her feet as Moran continued to circle her. "That was all I was told. Sherlock did have some of his homeless network involved but beyond acquiring the body and pushing it out the window, that's all I know." Molly winced when Moran suddenly grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, her pain filled eyes glanced upward as Moran brought his face close to hers.

"And Jim? How did he factor into the detective's plans?" Moran demanded and Molly frowned in confusion.

"J-Jim? I don't...he shot himself-" she broke off with a gasp as Moran tightened his hand in her hair.

"No he didn't!" He yelled, spittle flying from his lips. "Holmes killed him on that rooftop and you are going to tell me how!" Moran's eyes were wide and crazed and Molly trembled as she realised that Moran had truly lost his mind.

"I-I...I really don't know-" Molly gritted her teeth when he yanked on her hair again, her neck arching back painfully as Moran pressed his face close to hers.

"I think you're lying," he whispered menacingly, the heat of his breath burning her cheeks. Molly closed her eyes tightly as Moran ran his tongue up the length of her cheek. Revulsion swept through her once more.

"I think you'll find that she is not."

At the sound of that deep, rumbling voice, Molly's eyes snapped open and locked on the tall, lithe figure that stepped out of the shadows. Her breath hitched and then she gasped when Moran yanked on her hair again.

"Ah, detective! So you finally decided to join us." Moran laughed softly and pulled his gun out again, tracing it along the curve of her cheek. "The good doctor here was just telling me all about your daring escape from death." Sherlock Holmes moved closer, his arms at his sides, looking surprisingly worse for wear. Molly glanced away from him to search for John Watson but the army doctor was nowhere to be seen. Her gaze went back to Sherlock when he began to speak.

"And as Molly has told you, that was all she knew about it. She did her part and that was all." Sherlock's tone brooked no argument yet Molly detected an underlying tension in his voice. Moran chuckled again.

"Jim always said that you say the funniest things, Holmes." His eyes crinkled in memory before they hardened. "And now he'll never say anything funny again because you killed him!"

"Jim killed himself," Sherlock corrected, his eyes carefully trained on Moran as he slowly moved closer. "He put a gun in his mouth and blew the back of his head off."

" _Liar_! Stop lying to me! You killed him and took him from me! Just like I'll take her from you." He looked away from Sherlock and glanced down at Molly, an insane glint in his eyes. Molly stared up at him, heart racing, her breath catching in her throat.

"Sorry, Molly love, it's been fun while it lasted, but now he'll know exactly what it feels like," Moran sang and raised the gun, resting the barrel against her forehead. Molly closed her eyes. While Sherlock could work his way out of most things she knew that this time, this moment, wouldn't be one of them.

" _Vatican cameos!_ "

The sudden shout had Molly opening her eyes in surprise, before flinching when the sound of a gun went off. The bang had a strange echo and along with it there came a searing pain in her right shoulder that propelled her backward, her chair toppling over and her body landing with a thud on the cement floor. Winded, Molly turned her head and found herself looking into the blank, staring eyes of Sebastian Moran. A hole in his forehead was the culprit of his demise and Molly just stared, uncomprehending, as she tried to get her breath back.

Hands were suddenly grabbing her, running over her body and removing the ropes that tied her to the chair. The tight pressure of cloth wrapping around where her shoulder throbbed had her hissing in a sharp breath. She blinked lethargically, rolling her head until she was looking up into the bright eyes of Sherlock Holmes.

"Molly! Molly, I need you to focus," Sherlock said firmly. Molly was starting to feel numb and her eyes closed heavily. Her head ached horribly where it had made contact with the ground and she just wanted to sleep. They fluttered open again when she felt warm hands cupping her face and found Sherlock leaning over her, his expression fierce.

"Stay with me, Molly." His hands began to caress her face, tucking her hair behind her ears before tracing the curves of her cheeks. "Stay awake. You've lost some blood but you'll be fine." His mouth quirked in a quick smile but she noticed it didn't reach his eyes. Everything felt numb besides the steady throbbing of her heart that she could feel in her shoulder.

"Sh-Sherlock," Molly whispered and Sherlock brushed his thumb across her lips.

"Shh," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Molly. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I never meant for you to get caught up in all this. I just forget sometimes that there are people out there who give a damn about me." He chuckled humourlessly and Molly was surprised to see him gaze at her so tenderly. It reminded her very much of the time they had spoken to the train enthusiast and he had thanked her for her part in the fall. Thoughts of Mary and little Lizzy muddled through her sluggish brain, a pain filled groan escaping through her clenched teeth.

"M-Mary…Lizzy?" Molly gasped, struggling to keep her eyes open. A thumb brushed her cheek.

"They're both fine. John is tending to them. You were brilliant, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said in a rush, an undertone of awe in his deep voice. "When John had told me that you were all missing and that there was blood on the floor in the baby's room…I knew it could only be the person who had orchestrated the broadcast. And then I found your clue, Molly." His eyes were bright as he gazed down at her and Molly's heart thudded pathetically in her chest. She wished that she didn't feel so numb. She wanted more than anything to be able to touch him. Having him so close after the way she had left things with him and not being able to do anything about it was almost unbearable.

"Your brilliant clue," Sherlock continued, cupping her cheek gently and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "After that is didn't take us long to track Moran down." Molly closed her eyes at the caress, thinking back to being trapped in that little closet with Lizzy. She had done the only thing she could think of. With a pen that she'd had in her pocket she had written Jim's name on the wall beside the door, knowing that if Sherlock looked there he would recognize that she had been the one to write it. It was something of a sore spot with Sherlock that she still referred to the criminal mastermind as Jim. She had also traced around her right hand, hoping that it was ambiguous enough that if Moran happened to see it he wouldn't understand it and that Sherlock would understand straight away what she meant. She had been lucky that Moran had only thrown open the door and dragged her out of the house, Lizzy's heavy body cradled in her free arm.

She must have drifted off because she was shaken awake by Sherlock's hands on her shoulders. Molly's eyes fluttered open wearily and looked up into Sherlock's wide blue ones, his expression grim.

"Don't fall asleep, Molly," he commanded, his hand rising to cup her cheek again. The warmth of it was soothing and she smiled softly. The dull ache in her shoulder had become numb and she felt rather weightless, as if her body was filled with helium. Sherlock cupped her face between his hands and Molly focused on his face.

"Stay with me, Molly," he said softly. "While I might not think much of my own life, your life… _your_ life is worth everything." Her eyes widened at his words and she felt tears fill them when he slowly bent over her and pressed his lips ever so gently against her forehead.

"So don't you dare give up," Sherlock rasped as he pulled back to face her, his eyes narrowed and suspiciously bright. "Don't give up on me now when you've made me feel that my life is worth living again." The tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded and gave him a soft smile. He returned it and gathered her carefully in his arms just as the sound of sirens filled the air.

 **The End**

 _And there you have it! I hope you enjoyed my little story!_


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